


Scowling Swans

by elebridith



Series: Face Value [13]
Category: Angel: the Series, Leverage
Genre: Crack, Crossover, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elebridith/pseuds/elebridith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tutu, feathers and ballet shoes. It must be hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scowling Swans

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my Face Value!Verse. Some unspecific time between Testing Boundaries and Defying Mortality. Plot was born with the help of ravensword and badfalcon. Beta'd by rocketpool.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, no one, nothing. Just playing.

Lindsey yawned and flopped back on the sofa. _Not sure if I can stay awake until Eliot gets home. Fucking snow, everything is delayed._ He yawned again and switched the TV on, trying to concentrate on some game show but failing hopelessly. He grabbed the remote again and flipped idly through the channels, already half convinced that he should better get some sleep instead of desperately trying to stay awake. But then some classical orchestra music caught his attention.

 _Tchaikovsky. Swan Lake. Nice._ The familiar melody brought a smile to his face. He wasn’t particularly a ballet fan, but Wolfram and Hart had deemed it very important that their employees sported a good cultural education. Lindsey yawned slightly while watching. _Yeah. Taking clients to a theater made things go our way more than once._ And Lindsey couldn’t help but admire the athletic performance and the pure muscle control those dancers were showing. _Helps that this swan princess certainly ain’t hard on the eyes._ _Pretty._ Lindsey leaned back and got lost in the music, occasionally humming along, eyes slowly falling shut without him really noticing.

“Eliot, what’s taking you so long? Hurry up!”

Lindsey’s eyes flew open at the impatient sound of Sophie’s voice. He blinked rapidly a few times and tried to sit up, wincing as his stiff shoulder muscles protested. He rolled his head, trying to loosen them a bit and smiled in Sophie’s direction. “Hey Sophie. Didn’t hear you comin’ in, sorry. Must have fallen asleep.”

He reached for the TV remote and frowned as he noticed that it was switched off already. _Huh. That’s weird. Did Sophie..._ He turned back to Sophie, who had completely ignored his apology and now raised her voice a bit, managing to sound teasing and impatient at once.

“Come on Eliot. You’re taking longer in the bathroom than any woman!”

Lindsey laughed, feeling amused. “Sophie, no hair jokes, please, okay?”

Sophie still ignored him and turned her head to the door when footsteps coming from the bathroom announced that Eliot was finally ready. Lindsey coughed politely, trying to suppress his flash of annoyance at Sophie’s behavior. “Hey, Sophie, I know you’re probably busy right now, but could you at least...” He was cut off by the grumpy sound of Eliot’s voice coming from the corridor.

“Shut up Sophie. Shaving legs is a serious business. Ya wouldn’t want me to bleed in your precious stockings, would ya?”

Lindsey barely had time to think _Stockings?_ before the door finally opened and Eliot entered the living room. Lindsey’s jaw dropped and whatever teasing comment he had planned to make just died on his tongue. _What. The. Everloving. Fuck?!?_

Eliot wore a white long-sleeved leotard and white ballet stockings. His hair was apparently freshly washed, still a little damp and brushed back from his face, but at least his scowl was soothingly familiar.

Lindsey closed his eyes and shook his head heavily, not sure if they were playing a prank on him or if he was simply hallucinating. _If this is for a job, I would have known about it, right?_ He opened his eyes again, desperately praying that the really disturbing vision was gone by now, but no such luck. If anything, it had gotten worse - Sophie had just emptied her clutch on the table and was now skimming through a huge collection of feathers, pearls and sequins. Lindsey gaped at the sight for a moment and then laughed again, not able to avoid a touch of hysteria.

“Okay guys, you had me. Really funny. Can you now...” He gestured helplessly to both of them. “Um, just talk to me? Guys?”

No reaction.

Sophie just hummed to herself while carefully choosing feathers, and Eliot just watched her, scowl deepening, arms crossed in front of his chest. A very uneasy feeling began to settle in Lindsey’s stomach. “Uh... Eliot? Sophie? Why won’t you talk to me? Can you even hear me?” He raised his voice, but none of them answered.

The uneasy feeling mixed itself now with confusion. Lindsey abruptly stood up and strode over to Sophie, waving his hands in front of her face, snapping his fingers. She didn’t even flinch, just picked up some hairpins decorated with shimmering pearly-white sequins and held them up with a triumphant noise.

“Ah, here they are. Now, Eliot, let me help you with your hair.” Without a word Eliot pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. Sophie produced a hairbrush from somewhere and started combing Eliot’s hair.

Lindsey stared at the scene, speechless. Then he let himself fall back on the couch, feeling dumbfounded. “This is a dream,” he muttered. “Has to be. Or I’m dead and in some kind of hell. Yeah. That’s gotta be it.”

A soft “pop” sound made him look up. His eyes widened in disbelief. A black cloud of smoke curled up from the floor, fading fast and revealing Nate, wearing a ridiculous long black cape and an even more ridiculous false red beard. The look he gave Lindsey, though, was pure Nate - half resigned, half annoyed. Lindsey had to clear his throat twice to make sure that his voice didn’t squeak. “Nate? What the fuck is going on?” He gestured over to Eliot and Sophie, who was happily brushing Eliot’s hair while humming some oddly familiar tunes.

Nate sighed dramatically. “Lindsey. You figured it out already. Why ask?” He shrugged and smiled patiently. “Of course you’re in hell. What’d you think? Now stop complaining about how no one can hear you.” He pointed at Eliot and Sophie. “Eliot is the one who has to wear feathers. So please shut up.”

Lindsey felt like he was being punched in the stomach. “Hell? But... why...?” There definitely was now a squeak to his voice, but he didn’t care. He opened his mouth again, but Nate cut him off.

“I said shut up.” He pointed a finger and made a swirling motion, and a blue glittering cloud erupted from his fingertips into Lindsey’s face.

 _What the hell, Nate?_ Lindsey squeezed his eyes shut, but the glitter tickled his nose and made him sneeze violently.

When he had caught his breath again, he could see Nate grinning. “There. That’s better. See you at the theater, Lindsey.” He snapped his fingers and the black smoke cloud engulfed him again. It whirled around him a few times, covered Nate up completely and then both simply dissolved.

 _Say what?_ Lindsey tried to call after him, but his throat just closed up. He couldn’t make a sound. He groaned inwardly and buried his face in his hands. _Great. Just great. Now he can do magic too. What did I do? How did I end up here?_

He stood up again and went over to Sophie, who was just twisting Eliot’s hair into a neat ballet hair bun. He grabbed her shoulder and shook it almost desperately in an attempt to somehow catch her attention, but she simply shrugged him off as if all that she had felt was a fly. She fixed the last hair pin, stood up and went in front of Eliot.

She studied her work and beamed. “Very nice. Smile, Eliot, this is going to be great!” She rummaged through her items again and picked up a white feather-donned hairband.

Eliot closed his eyes for a moment in resignation. “Parker has all the time in the world to sprain her ankle. An’ she does it durin’ the one job where we fuckin’ need a primaballerina? I’m gonna kill her when this is over.”

Sophie tsked. “Eliot, she didn’t do it on purpose.” She pulled the hair band carefully over Eliot’s head and tucked it into place. “And since I don’t dance as well as I can act, I’m really not the right person for this. And Hardison... well.” She scoffed and tucked one last feather into place. “There.” She stepped back and nodded, looking very satisfied with herself. “Isn’t it wonderful that you mentioned the other day that ballet dancing is a part of your fight training?” She laughed cheerily. “We would have had to skip the job otherwise, and that would have been a shame, really.”

Lindsey still stood next to Eliot’s chair, staring open-mouthed from one to the other. _Ballet training? Well, it’s good for muscle developing and balance, but.._. He wanted to laugh, but even that sound didn’t come out. He rubbed his temples and chuckled dryly as another thought came to his mind. _Or maybe you dated a primaballerina. And got... lessons._ His grin faded. _Oh. No, that would have been me. Minus the dancing lessons, of course. I just remember a few terms... Oops. Good thing I never mentioned that._ The mental image of Sophie spiking his hair with feathers made him shudder.

Eliot’s impatient voice shook him out of his reverie. “Sophie? Are we done?” Sophie tapped her lower lip with her finger and looked thoughtful. Then her eyes lit up and she dug around in her seemingly endless clutch again. Eliot groaned as she pulled out another string of white feathers. “No. No way you’re puttin’ more feathers on my head, Sophie. This ain’t Copacabana!”

Sophie chuckled. “These are not for your hair, silly. They are for your leotard. To cover up your nipples.” Lindsey choked as Sophie held up a big needle with another triumphant “Hah!”-sound.

 _Shit, Sophie, couldn’t you find a bigger one? A javelin, maybe?_ He desperately tried to make warning noises, but of course it didn’t work. But Eliot was already up from his chair, eyes wide open and growling menacingly.

“You ain’t goin’ anywhere near my nipples! Not at all, an’ certainly not with...” He gesticulated wildly to her hand. “...that!”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby,” she chided. “But if you insist - do it yourself.” She all but threw the feather string at Eliot who gave her a death glare but didn’t comment any further. He just pulled down the leotard, slipped out of the sleeves and started to stitch.

“Ain’t gonna work anyway,” he grumbled while he slipped the leotard back on and adjusted it. He glared at Sophie again and pointed at his chest. “Does this look female to you? An’ no, I’m not gonna stuff anything in here!”

Lindsey sputtered quietly at the mental image of Eliot with breasts and tried to catch his breath. _This is... someone get me out of here!_ He frantically looked around, but couldn’t see anything that would have been helpful. His shoulders slumped and he shuffled over to the sofa and heavily dropped on it. _Okay. I’ll just... watch the show. Maybe I’ll get a hint how to end this._

Sophie shook her head at Eliot and laughed softly. “No need for that. Actually, most ballerinas are quite... um, flat.” She blushed a little and laughed a tad too loud.

Eliot smirked wickedly. “Ah. That’s the reason why I never dated one.”

Lindsey’s eyebrows shot up. _There goes that theory._

Sophie rolled her eyes and gestured to him to stand up. “Let me look at you.”

Eliot stood up and straightened. He gave Sophie’s thoughtful expression a look and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about lipstick or somethin’. I already put on the eyeliner, that’s enough.”

Sophie eyed him up and down and finally nodded with a satisfied smile. “I think we’re good. Your shoes and the tutu are at the theater. Let’s go.” She turned around and looked at the door. “Nate?”

Lindsey’s head jerked up and he practically threw himself off the couch. _They are not leaving me here, right? Gotta follow!_ A few quick steps brought him next to Eliot, who was not moving yet. Lindsey took a closer look at Eliot’s outfit and didn’t know if he was supposed to laugh or scream. _Not that it matters. I still can’t get a sound out._ He looked around and threw a questioning look at Sophie. _Now, what? Thought you wanted to -_

He couldn’t finish the thought. The now familiar puff of smoke curled up in the doorway, Nate tilted his head, nodded approvingly and snapped his fingers again. Lindsey made a surprised sound (if only in his head) as the whole room suddenly started to blur and waver, and finally tilt into a whirl.

 

 

Lindsey started to feel nauseous. He pressed his eyes close and tried to hold on to something, but before he knew it, the weird feeling faded. He reluctantly opened his eyes again and peeked around through half-closed lids.

 _Dark, smells of sweat, lot of hushed talking. Dim lights._ He opened his eyes further and saw a lot of people running around, some clearly technicians _\- and Hardison, of course, what else -_ some in various stages of costuming. He sighed, and then sighed again as he realized that his voice still wasn’t back. _Fuck you, Nate. Not enough I’m in hell and have to watch my boyfriend all feathered up, I can’t even complain about it! Speaking of..._

A quick wave of arms in the faces of some young dancers confirmed that he was indeed still invisible to others. He turned around, momentarily panicking when he couldn’t find Eliot, but then he let out a silent sigh of relief at the sight of Sophie holding a pair of white ballet shoes.

“Come on, Eliot! Seven minutes to go!” she chirped cheerfully and just a little bit impatiently. Lindsey closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for the sight that would inevitably follow.

 _She said tutu, right?_ He opened his eyes just a tiny bit and squinted at Sophie - and at the white... frilly... figure behind her. He exhaled slowly. _She did._ Lindsey rubbed his temples, shook his head and opened his eyes completely, feeling utterly defeated. Eliot crouched on the floor now, ballet shoes already on his feet, and expertly wrapped the white satin bands around his calves. He tightened the knots, stood up and straightened, looking at Sophie with a resigned expression.

A female voice over the speaker ordered all dancers to their places. Eliot slowly walked up to the curtain and sighed heavily. “There ain’t no way outta this, right?”

Sophie gave him an encouraging smile and patted his arm. “You’ll do fine. Did you warm up properly?”

Eliot just glared at her and Sophie smiled even wider. Lindsey just now realized that he always was in the right place to watch them without actually moving there, no matter where the others were. He rolled his eyes.

 _Someone makes sure I don’t miss any of this. Stellar._ He pointedly walked up to Sophie and placed himself next to her. _God Eliot, I’m so sorry. This is my hell, and you have to suffer too_. He exhaled slowly, and then frowned. _You do realise that you’re far too accepting here, McDonald? Shouldn’t you try to get outta here, somehow?_

Lindsey leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, ending up sitting only a few steps away from Eliot. A rush of helplessness washed over him. _Yeah. I should. An’ how exactly if I can’t talk or touch anyone?_ He let his head fall back against the wall and was surprised to find out that it actually hurt, albeit just a bit. _Okay. Not people, but things. Good._ He grinned, feeling better. _Maybe I can find something to write. But... that can wait. I wanna see Eliot dance first._

He relaxed and made himself comfortable. The familiar opening music started to fill the air. Eliot stretched his arms and legs, doing some impressive bending and even a split while he was waiting for the first act to pass. Sophie just skipped along the curtains, pretending to take notes while scanning the area. Lindsey watched Eliot, fascinated by his flexibility despite the definitely weird circumstances.

A warning sound from Sophie made him look up. He followed her view and narrowed his eyes as he peeked on the scenery on stage. The dancing prince looked oddly familiar. Lindsey searched his memory and did a double take as realisation hit. _Moreau? Damien Moreau? What the fuck?_ He silently huffed. _This is my hell. What’s he doing here? I never had any business with him!_

A small hissing noise from Sophie interrupted his musings. She hurried to Eliot’s side. “Second act is about to start! Ready?”

Eliot stood up and nodded. “Ready.” He straightened, lifted his arms above his head and casually went _en pointe_. Exactly on cue he glided onstage with soft floating arm movements that obviously should portray swan wings. Lindsey stared in awe while scrambling to stand up, and found himself at the side curtain a split second later.

He closed his eyes in resignation. _Yeah. Like a fucking compass needle._ _That ain’t bodin’ well for my plan to wander around later.._. He rubbed his temples. _Oh well._ He opened his eyes again and watched the stage. The Moreau-prince looked a little irritated and confused, but stayed in character nevertheless. Eliot danced across the stage, doing turns and quite impressive split jumps that brought him inevitably closer to the prince.

Lindsey held his breath as Eliot ended his last turn in a graceful attitude directly in front of Moreau. He held the pose for a few seconds and then stepped into position for a pirouette, going _en pointe_ again while he turned his right leg outside and lifted his foot until his toes touched his left knee.

Lindsey nodded, very impressed. _Not as easy as it looks. He’s really good_. Then he did a double take and barely suppressed the urge to hit his head against the wall. _I’m admiring my boyfriend’s_ passé _technique? Fuck, Lindsey, get a grip, or you’ll be dancing next to him in no time!_

He fiercely shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but found himself drawn to the scenery on stage again. Prince Moreau held the hand of Eliot’s upstretched arm and had the other one at Eliot’s waist, barely steadying him while Eliot effortlessly twirled one time, two, three...

And then it happened. Lindsey would swear later that he had seen Eliot smirk before he lashed out his foot in a lightning quick move during the fourth twirl, unerringly hitting Moreau’s solar plexus full on. Prince Moreau only managed a small grunt before collapsing very ungracefully to the ground. Eliot caught his balance, twirled one last time and ended the motion with both feet on the ground, arms to the side and arching back in a lithe movement, ending the passage in a dramatic pose.

Lindsey now definitely could see the big satisfied smirk on Eliot’s face. He silently whooped with joy. _Now that’s more like it! It was a con, I knew it!_ He turned to Sophie, who stood next to him and wore that proud smile that she always had when a team member just exceeded all expectations. He punched her lightly on her arm and tried to make a comment, only to realize that his speech still hadn’t returned. His face fell. _Shit. So, really no prank. Unless..._ He frowned. _Nate, if I find out that you hypnotized me, I’m gonna punch you._

A confused murmur drifting in from the audience made him look on stage again and he had to grin at the sight. Eliot had very unceremoniously picked up Prince Moreau’s limp form and had thrown him over his shoulder. He now bowed in _révérence_ to the audience, managing to make it look smoothly despite his human load. Then he pattered to the side wing and slipped through the gap in the curtain, dropping Moreau to Sophie’s feet as soon as he was out of sight of the audience.

“There. Let’s tie him up and get the hell outta here.” Eliot scoffed. “An’ I need to get out of this outfit. My feet hurt.” He gave his white ballet shoes a disgusted look and pointed down. “If you ever want me to do that again, tell me a few weeks in advance so I can practice, willya?”

Lindsey’s eyes unconsciously followed Eliot’s hand movement, but stopped at something he hadn’t noticed before. _Is that..._ He froze and then took a few steps back, wildly shaking his head. “Seriously, Eliot? Pink nail polish?”

Eliot looked up and started to smile. “Lindsey?”

“Did you really... wait, what?” Lindsey stared at Eliot, completely astonished that he had gotten a reaction. He suddenly felt dizzy again. His vision began to blur with foggy clouds. _Shit! What’s happenin’ now?_

Through the haze he could see Eliot coming towards him, the tight hair bun loosening up, make up melting away and the clean-shaven face growing beard stubble again. The white ballet clothes shifted and changed to his usual multi-layered outfit. The room around Eliot started to swirl, and Lindsey closed his eyes as a slight nausea started to settle. All of a sudden he felt a grip on his shoulder and someone shook him slightly.

“Linds? Your neck’s gonna kill ya tomorrow. You better get up.”

 _Huh?_ Lindsey’s eyes flew open. He stared up at a smiling Eliot who looked tired and even more rugged than usual, but apart from that looked the same as always. Lindsey blinked and then blurted out “Where’s your tutu?”

Eliot’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he slowly pulled his hand back from Lindsey’s shoulder. Lindsey stared at his perplexed expression that Eliot was barely able to hide, and had the sudden urge to hit his forehead on the next hard surface. He closed his eyes and tried to sort his confused thoughts. A small resigned laugh coming from Eliot interrupted his efforts.

“Y’know... of all the things I imagined you’d say to me when I finally got my ass back home - that ain’t one of ‘em.”

Lindsey opened his eyes again, saw Eliot’s clearly amused expression while he took off his jacket. Lindsey started to laugh helplessly until he had to gasp for air. He barely realized that the TV was still running and the last act of Swan Lake neared its end. Finally he caught his breath, swung his legs off the couch and stood up. “Sorry,” he murmured and slid his hand around Eliot’s neck, drew him closer and kissed him softly. “Bad dream.”

Eliot tilted his head and searched Lindsey’s face. Then he turned his head, gave the TV an inquiring look and looked back at Lindsey, narrowing his eyes. “Do I wanna know?”

Lindsey snorted out an almost desperate laugh. “No. Definitely not.” He met Eliot’s eyes and held the gaze. “Absolutely not.”

Eliot gave the TV another suspicious look, and Lindsey cupped his face and drew it back towards him, brushing his thumb carefully over a small fresh bruise. Eliot had a teasing sparkle in his his eyes and tried to suppress a smirk, and Lindsey had the very distinctive feeling that his partner exactly knew what he had been dreaming about. He groaned inwardly.

 _I better distract him. If he starts bugging me on that, I’ll never live it down!_ Luckily he could think of a few nice methods of distraction, and went for the obvious one - he made big puppy dog eyes. “Let me try the welcoming thing again, ‘kay?”

Eliot tried to look annoyed, but failed spectacularly. He had to chuckle. “Yeah, okay. You got one more chance.”

Lindsey smirked wickedly as a slightly cruel idea came to his mind. He stepped closer, pressed himself flush against Eliot and nuzzled his neck, smiling against the soft skin as he heard Eliot’s breath hitch. He let his mouth wander to Eliot’s ear, nipped playfully at the ear lobe and then whispered huskily, “Say... you hungry?” He rolled his hips just a little bit and grinned at the appreciative growling moan he got in response. He felt Eliot’s hands sliding around his waist when he nuzzled his neck again, then brushed his lips over Eliot’s ear and purred, “There’s steak in the fridge.”

Eliot pulled back a tiny bit so he could see Lindsey’s face, his expression clearly showing that he had expected... something else. Something that would include using teeth, but not the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows, but then rolled his eyes at the self satisfied, happy grin he found on Lindsey’s face. Eliot tried to suppress his laughter and slowly nodded, now looking very serious. “Now that’s more like it.”

Lindsey let out an exaggerated relieved sigh and quickly kissed Eliot again before regretfully breaking the body contact. Eliot watched him with an half-amused, half-resigned smile.

“Ain’t askin’, don’t worry. You prepare the steaks while I take a shower?”

Lindsey grinned, feeling a little guilty. _Busted. Ah well. As long as I don’t have to tell him about the ballet shoes, all is good._ “Yeah,” he answered. “Ready when you are.”

Eliot nodded, satisfied, and disappeared into the bathroom. Lindsey stretched himself and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the feeling of stiffened muscles. A slight sense of déja-vù hit him, and he unconsciously looked around, expecting to see Sophie and huffing out a laugh when he found the living room empty.

 _Dream, Lindsey. It was a dream._ He shook the feeling off and then considered for a split second following Eliot in the shower, but dropped the idea with a regretful sigh. _We’ll never get anything to eat tonight if I do that. Later._ He padded over to the kitchen as the bathroom door opened and a very confused-looking Eliot peeked out.

“Linds? Why do I have white stockings in my drawer?”


End file.
